"George R. R. Martin - The Sandkings" - читать интересную книгу автора (Martin George R R)

likeness; it had his impish grin, wide mouth, full cheeks. His blue eyes sparkled, his gray hair
was carefully arrayed in a fashionable sidesweep, his eyebrows were thin and sophisticated.

Soon enough the sandkings set to work. Kress fed them lavishly while his image beamed down at them
from the sky. Temporarily the wars stopped. All activity was directed toward worship.

His face merged on the castle walls.

At first all four carvings looked alike to him, but as the work continued and Kress studied the
reproductions, he began to detect subtle differences in technique and execution. The reds were the
most creative, using tiny flakes of slate to put the gray in his hair. The white idol seemed young
and mischievous to him, while the face shaped by the blacks-although virtually the same, line for
line-struck him as wise and benevolent. The orange sandkings, as usual, were last and least. The
wars had not gone well for them, and their castle was sad compared to those of the others. The
image they carved was
crude and cartoonish, and they seemed to intend to leave it this way. When they stopped work on
the face, Kress grew quite piqued with them, but there really was nothing he could do.

When all of the sandkings had finished their Kress faces, he turned off the projector and decided
that it was time to have a party. His friends would be impressed. He could even stage a war for
them, he thought. Humming happily to himself, he began drawing up a guest list.

The party was a wild success.

Kress invited thirty people: a handful of close friends who shared his amusements, a few former
lovers, and a collection of business and social rivals who could not afford to ignore his summons.
He knew some of them would be discomfited and even offended by his sandkings. He counted on it. He
customarily considered his parties a failure unless at least one guest walked out in high dudgeon.

On impulse he added Jala Wo's name to his list. "Bring Shade if you like," he added when he
dictated the invitations to her.

Her acceptance surprised him just a bit: "Shade, alas, will be unable to attend. He does not go to
social functions. As for myself, I look forward to the chance to see how your sandkings are
doing."

Kress ordered a sumptuous meal. And when at last the conversation had died down and most of his
guests had gotten silly on wine and joy sticks, he shocked them by personally

scraping their table leavings into a large bowl. "Come, all of you," he commanded. "I want to
introduce you to my newest pets." Carrying the bowl, he conducted them into his living room.

The sandkings lived up to his fondest expectations. He had starved them for two days in
preparation, and they were in a fighting mood. While the guests ringed the tank, looking through
the magnifying glasses that Kress had thoughtfully provided, the sandkings waged a glorious battle
over the scraps. He counted almost sixty dead mobiles when the struggle was over. The reds and
whites, which had recently formed an alliance, came off with most of the food.

"Kress, you're disgusting," Cath m'Lane told him. She had lived with him for a short time two
years before, until her soppy sentimentality almost drove him mad. "I was a fool to come back